The sheriff nodded with what he took to be the dignity befitting his authority.
"The coroner should set on the corpse," he said gravely, pleased at this display of his familiarity with legal phrases. "In his absence--bein' there hain't none--I reckon I'll do the best I kin."
He strode to the sled, and pulled aside the blanket that had concealed the dead man's face. He turned to the men who had crowded around.
"Anybody know him?" he demanded, authoritatively.
There was a chorus of grunts in negation.
Then, as the others fell silent, Jack spoke again:
"I knew him by sight, though I never spoke to him. His name was Sam Ward. They said he'd struck it rich--a secret mine somewhere in the mountains."
"Know anything more about him?" The sheriff's voice was heavy with responsibility.
"He was in the stampede that came up to Forgotten Creek day before yesterday. You know?"
"I know," the sheriff assented. "What else do you know?"
"I know he's dead," Jack snapped. He was heartily sick of this business, and his temper grew strained. "If you have any doubt about it," he added sarcastically, "why, I saw him killed."
There was a general start of surprise over this bald announcement. The sheriff, however, preserved his official composure.
"That ought to help some," was his response. "Supposin' now, you fire ahead, an' tell all you know about this corpse o' your'n."
"No corpse of mine!" Jack retorted gruffly, more than ever annoyed, while Nell felt a qualm of new dread at the sheriff's ambiguous words. But Jack curbed his impatience, and related in detail what he knew concerning the incidents of the tragedy.
His hearers listened intently. There were features in this murder that gave it a certain distinction. The fact that it had been witnessed from such a distance through the field-glasses gave it a charm of novelty that a mere murder must otherwise have lacked. The men, who had hitherto been stealing many a sly glance toward the young woman with the dainty face and glowing eyes, now stared at her with open admiration for the one who had first seen the assassin's advance upon his victim, and had guessed his deadly purpose. All those present accepted the truth of the narrative without question. The young man's frank expression and the simplicity of his story, strange as it was, carried conviction. Moreover, it was well-nigh impossible to suspect this beautiful girl of any complicity in crime. So, the account was accepted by all hearers as truth, and it occurred to none even to question it.... To none, save one. And that one was he who, of his own knowledge, best knew that it was truth. Yet, he would question, and to some purpose--for his own safety's sake.